


Journey for Pleasure

by ladyinRED



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:38:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5702998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyinRED/pseuds/ladyinRED
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>my very LATE (and still incomplete!) gift to jalpralp @ tumblr for satinalia aka the dragon age holidays!</p><p>**Hawke takes a sheltered Merrill out of the Alienage and into a tour of the city of Kirkwall.</p><p>disclaimer: this story is for fun only, i hope no one takes it too seriously... :P it's not supposed to be an attempt at a magnum opus or anything if you know what i mean. this is separate</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Good Idea

Stepping into Merrill’s rather unlovely abode, Hawke was immediately aware from her greeting that the Dalish elf expected some level of disgust, no matter how masked it was. Of course, her temperament was rather the opposite… while she may have garnered some success as a mercenary, this didn’t bring her pause from being cooped up inside of one small and dilapidated home with Gamlen, her mother, and Bethany. It _was_ noticeably cleaner there, thanks to the feverish scrubbing of Mother Hawke… and there weren’t any holes in the ceiling like there were in Merrill’s… and there was more than, essentially, _one_ room there… but still, Hawke understood the agitated struggle for existence. She didn’t want the elf to think she would turn her nose up at her. 

“Can I get you something to eat or drink? I have… water,” Merrill said, hurriedly pacing over to the sink and filling a cup.

“I came here to see _you_ , Merrill. You don’t have to fuss over me,” Hawke said, eyeing the mug clasped between both of Merrill’s hands.

“You’re so kind. My first guest, and I’m already a terrible host.” Merrill said, in dismay as she focused on the not-so-unclouded water within her grasp. After a hesitation, she sighed - roughly, thanks to nervousness - before she poured the drink back into the basin. She glanced in Hawke’s direction, though she wasn’t proud enough to look at her: “I wanted to thank you for bringing me here, but… I’m making a mess of it.”

Hawke chuckled, not missing a beat, “I’m sure I could think of a better way for you to thank me.”

At this, Merrill instinctively eyed the woman: “Well of course you could.” It wasn’t clear whether she had comprehended the innuendo, or if she simply thought it was an obvious statement. Judging by her behavior and the smog of depression around her, it seemed more likely to be the latter. Visibly distraught by her own inner turmoil, she couldn’t help but to express some of it further: “I haven’t exactly had many friends. Not even among my own clan. This is… tricky.”

Hawke’s brow wrinkled, feeling a bit worried for the elf. Pressing for more, she thought it best to present as someone the mage could confide in: “What made you unpopular with the Dalish?”

“Being First to the Keeper,” Merrill started, anxious to speak. “I was always… a bit secluded. I studied magic and history while the others were learning the Vir Tanadhal.” She stood there, awkwardly, watching Hawke’s own gaze as the warrior sat comfortably at the dining table, before continuing: “It’s good that I left. I’d have made a terrible Keeper."

After apprehension had fused her legs in place for long enough, Merrill finally realized that it could be seen as rude of her not to join Hawke at the table, and so she did just that. Adding in a nervous chuckle for good measure, she tacked on an extra bit of information: "I was never that good with people.”

“You seem to be getting the hang of it already.” Hawke said, with a knowing grin.

“I’m glad you think so. Thank you for coming to visit me, Hawke. It… means a lot to me.” Merrill confessed, her eyes lingering on the broader being before finding her nails instead.

“Any time, Merrill - though I have another question.” Hawke said, inquisitive.

“Oh? What is it?” Merrill said, struggling to keep her breathing even. Talking to people wasn’t very easy, was it?

“How long have you been cooped up in here since we moved you in?” Hawke questioned, leaning into her right knee, clearly out of interest... and, perhaps more likely, concern.

Merrill shifted, fraught with worry for how to answer: “... Uh… the… entire time? I wanted to clean up this place. If you had seen it in light before I’m sure your eyes would have melted-”

“You haven’t been outside of the Alienage? Outside of this house?” Hawke reached, sounding incredulous.

“Well, no, the other elves here discourage leaving… elves aren’t exactly _welcome_ elsewhere, Hawke.” Merrill said, with a frown.

“Fenris stays in a mansion in Hightown, Merrill.” Hawke said.

“Oh. Well. I wouldn’t want to bother Fenris either if I were a guardswoman. Or an elf-hater or anything like that. Fenris swings his sword about as well as you do.” Merrill said.

“We have Aveline in the City Guard, Merrill…” Hawke droned, sounding displeased.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry, my head is never where it should be-”

Hawke was again quick to cut in, not wanting the woman to ramble herself into oblivion: “Listen, Merrill… what if I took you on a tour of the city? Those elf-haters won’t dare approach you with my blade near!” She declared, placing an armored hand on the hilt of her sword for emphasis, confident that her demonstration of courage would be more than enough to offer her friend some solace. After all, Merrill had already seen Hawke in action.

“A tour of the city… oh, how exciting! Yes, yes I would love to go!” Merrill cheered, grasping one of her hands with the other out of genuine - though, possibly mitigated - excitement!

“Grand! Let us be off now, then,” Hawke said, standing up from her chair.

“I’m shaking in my boots with eagerness! Or, well, I don’t own any boots. Ah well it doesn’t matter, don't want to babble, after you, Hawke,” Merrill chattered, suddenly blooming with joy and anticipation. 

\- - - 

"Oh... I see what you're doing, Hawke."

"What's that?" Hawke inquired, as the two stood outside of Merrill's humble... battered... abode, eyeing the sullen hustle-and-bustle of the Alienage. Elves praying to the vhenadahl in the center of the neighborhood likely for guidance or prosperity; elves running the shops, debating on how to make ends meet without overcharging their fellow brethren; elves hoping for another day without an attack from a shem supremacist or some other such. Elves, trying to survive. One might say that, as its core, the life of a City Elf was not all that dissimilar from a Dalish Elf's. But by that logic, it would be more prudent to say that the life of a City Elf shared much in common, in fact, with the lives of all other beings in Thedas - after all, in the end, everyone held onto the goal of wanting to find the best way to ensure their own livelihood. And who could blame them? They lived in a ruthless world.

"You just wanted me to give you a tour of the Alienage. You're curious about the slums and you want your own tour." Merrill accused, frowning.

"Where'd you come up with that idea?" Hawke asked, plainly.

Merrill paused, at a loss for a moment, before conceding: "Isabela says that I'm like a bowl of cherries and that I should try to become a locked box of cherries instead. I don't really know what that means, but she also tells me that I shouldn't be so trusting. But I guess I'm doing that the wrong way."

"You trust Isabela?" Hawke questioned, taken aback.

"Yes? Why shouldn't I?" Merrill responded, wide-eyed.

"...There are  _so_ many reasons not to trust her... regardless, you trust Isabela more than you trust  _me_?" Hawke went, in disbelief.

"Isabela's a nice person." Merrill said, evidently hard of hearing as the question drifted far past her head.

"Yeah, she's  _nice_ alright..." Hawke trailed, forehead furrowed as she distanced herself with thought.

"Um. Hawke?" Merrill said, eyeing the suddenly emptier woman. There was no response. Merrill began waving a lithe hand in front of the taller warrior's face: "...Are you sleeping?"

"No, Merrill."

"Are you mad at me? I trust you, I promise, I just get scared, Anders asked me to come to his clinic before and when I told him I didn't want to he said I was agoraphobic. I'm not sure what that means, but I hear the word 'gore' in it so it sounds kind of sanguinary. Which I don't like. I know I use..." she glanced around, remembering to hush herself for this part, "... _blood_ magic, but it doesn't mean I _like_ the mess. The mess just comes with the territory. Like this Alienage, which I'm also stuck in," she said.

"I heard 'I trust you, I promise,' so I'm just going to go with that. Let's get on with that tour, shall we?" Hawke said, with a grin.

"Oh, goodness, that sounds wonderful!" Merrill cheered, and the two of them were marching off once more.

"First stop in Kirkwall, the City of Chains... Lowtown." Hawke declared.

"The 'City of Chains.' No wonder they have an Alienage," Merrill mused.

Proceeding up the steps leading out of the Alienage and into the rest of Lowtown, this dynamic duo's journey of pleasure throughout Kirkwall had just begun - and thus far, it seemed to be lacking in the 'pleasure' department... however, the night had yet to arrive, and the day was young! Determination willing, Hawke would relieve Merrill of her self-imposed chains or die trying. Merrill, gullible and ultimately unsuspecting, was just happy to be taken along for the ride. It was a wonder whether or not it was a  _good_ idea, removing Merrill from the safety of her tumbledown shack and into the crime-trodden streets of the City of Chains... 


	2. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i feel organized. yay for deadlines! thank god for the phone calendar.
> 
> another chapter for you guys and it is early :) once again these are written for fun, i'm not being a stickler about particularities with characterization or anything like that... in fact after the opening conversation, i'm no longer thinking about it (or anything) at all and it's all intuitive, lead subconsciously. (otherwise i wouldn't be able to write anything. nothing good anyway.) so keep that in mind please, as this will be a constant trend!
> 
> i appreciate constructive criticism but i may or may not listen to you because i'm satisfied as long as i put my heart into it. ;*
> 
> regardless, i hope you all enjoy, but especially jalpralp aka brick, since this is her gift!

 

"I know you say that you don't, but... Merrill, don't you  _ever_ regret it?"

 

"Regret what, Hawke?" Merrill asked, unwarily, as she trailed just near to the armor-clad woman's shoulder.

"Leaving your clan, making a deal with a demon, all the  _blood magic_... that, especially, really..." Hawke trailed, uncomfortably.

"No, I don't regret any of it," Merrill said.

"I just don't understand how that could be  _possible_. You have left mitigated disaster and hatred for you in your wake," Hawke described, appearing rightly baffled by the elf's willingness to be so unheeding and insensitive. "I mean, you made a  _deal_ with a  _demon_."

"He was a _spirit_ who offered me his aid. And he was imprisoned. What was I supposed to do? No one should have to live in a cage." Merrill said.

"Merrill..." Hawke droned, completely bewildered.

"Listen, Hawke... without this 'demon,' and without blood magic, I would never have cleansed the taint from my shard of Eluvian. That's one step closer to possibly finding Tamlen, or at least to what realm of untouched elven history he was drawn to. It may have caused my clan to view me as a demon as well, but I can still help them with this." Merrill went, eyes pinched with focus as she attempted to verbalize her perspective, "And because of it all, I met you, Hawke. You, and Isabela and Varric... everyone, even Anders and Fenris. Whether we agree or not, you all stand beside me. Some of you even believe in me. I have to appreciate that."

"I... suppose I can understand that," Hawke said.

"Of course, maybe these are just things I say in order to help myself cope. Who really knows? In the immortal words of Isabela: 'I'll never tell.'" Merrill said.

"Well, you have a point regardless, Merrill. Everything happens for a reason. And the present is all we have." Hawke said.

"Thank you, Hawke."

\- - -

Lowtown was far from gorgeous. It was a decrepit den of illegality, filth, atrocity, and surly faces. Tattered folios and shattered bottles of liquor gave the roads some character. The familiar prostitute roamed the streets here on potentially any hour of the day. Hawke liked to tease at the thought that it was because she couldn't get accepted into the far more prestigious and reputable (as it gets, for members of the eldest profession) Blooming Rose. While kissed by the sun's rays, this city district still appeared impressive enough; though it had been more or less neglected by the city and essentially squatted in by many organized groups of thugs, the architecture was still nothing to scoff at. And while it may have held danger, it was still much better here than in  _Darktown_ of all places, where it was unlikely that a day went by without a number of arms being broken or throats being cut. 

"So, this is Lowtown thus far. Do not wander these streets at night, and if you must, don't do it alone." Hawke said.

"Okay," Merrill nodded.

"Up this street is where I live, I think you know... past there, we'll see the marketplace and the Hanged Man."

"Oh, I get to see where you live, Hawke? Let's go now!" Merrill cheered, entwining her fingers together.

"Okay, okay," Hawke said, chuckling. "Watch your step, though. Glass and all that."

"Thank you. You are so kind," Merrill said.

"No need to mention tha-"

"Oh,  _Hawke, look...!_ " Merrill cried, pointing an index finger and covering her mouth with the other lithe hand. At the end of the corridor was a small rabbit, whimpering softly as it attempted to budge what must have been a broken, if not shattered, foot. Without further thought, Merrill was rushing towards it. "My goodness, what have you done to yourself, rabbit?"

But once she'd neared the soft creature its affliction became readily apparent. A lone arrow sat here, pinning the hare into the ground. As Merrill gasped out of shock, Hawke was closing the bit of distance that had been made between them. Surveying the area, the ironclad woman came upon a  _sight..._

"There's quite a bloody mess, here. Literally," Hawke smirked into her words, while scrutinizing the dark crimson that stained the wall nearby. "Looks to be a bit much for little, teeny bunnies."

"You've  _got that right,_ " grunted a choleric and rather callow sounding timbre, belonging to a young elven man who now pointed a nocked arrow squarely in the direction of Merrill's temple.

"Oh, dear," Merrill said.

The man had seemingly appeared from the shadows, or alongside the winds themselves. Neither Hawke nor Merrill heard his approach, and as an archer he kept distance enough - perched at the top of a higher stairwell - to remain capable of inflicting an effective amount of damage before Hawke would be able to rear upon him. Therefore they remained, for the moment, at this would-be assailant's mercy.

"What are you planning on doing with that, boy?" Hawke inquired, cheeky.

"I'll kill you both is what I'll do, wench!" He declared, veritably belligerent.

"I strongly disagree," Hawke said.

"Fuck you! That rabbit _belongs_ to the _Softrunners_ ," he exclaimed, shaking. 

"The Softrunners? Is that the name of this rabbit's blossoming bunny family, perchance?" Merrill asked.

" _No,_ we're a blighted gang!" The youth wailed.

"That sounds very unpleasant...  _Oh_ \- wait, were you being sarcastic?" Merrill asked.

"Not this time, Merrill. I've heard of them... vaguely. They're a ragtag bunch who steal from the shops and horde rabbits for their feet." Hawke said.

"...For their feet?" Merrill repeated, incredulous.

"Yes. They believe the feet are-"

"LUCKY!" The man boomed, thriving within madness. He stared on viciously at the duo, reciting an apparent motto: "'With the foot of the hare round the neck for flair, live a life clear and without any fear!'"

"By the Creators. Hawke?" Merrill uttered, nervously. She looked to her chosen commander for guidance, knowing that one abrupt move from her would likely be her head. Deranged though he may have been, the small mage certainly did not want to test his shot.

Hawke took one pensive step in the archer's direction, and the man's hold immediately strengthened. 

"Stay where you are," he commanded. "She dies if you move closer. Try it if you want," he went, with a glint in his eye that stunned Hawke for the briefest instant. In response, she began scanning the area around them.

"I see," Hawke said, as though she'd become enlightened.

"See  _what_?" The man growled.

"Merrill." Hawke called, with a focus that was visibly startling to her.

"Y-yes?" Merrill stuttered, timidly.

"Give him the rabbit-"

" _No_!" Merrill exclaimed, placing her hands nearer to it, as though she were shielding it from the elements, or concealing it from sight.

" _Trust me,_ Merrill..." Hawke said, tersely, gazing upon her companion fiercely.

"But..." Merrill started, looking sullenly at the wounded hare, before her eyes once again found the fire in Hawke's.

"A-alright," she said. After all, she didn't particularly enjoy being pelted with arrows. She grasped the bolt and yanked it out of the ground, and with momentum out of the foot of the bunny as well, before speedily taking the creature into her arms. Hawke was there to receive it from her, and was soon walking with it to the stairwell. 

The archer began a sinister chuckle, "Now that's more like it, ladies."

This was enough to introduce a miasma of tension in the air far surpassing what had already been present. Seeing the striking _glares_ sent from both Hawke and Merrill made the man immediately nervous. With his neck feeling clammy, he spoke: "Alright alright, just, leave it at the bottom of the stairwell. The foot was pierced, it can't run."

"Fine," Hawke said, having already reached this checkpoint. She placed the rabbit down on the first stair and then took several steps back.

"Good..." trailed the archer, as he came nearing the hare, his arrow trained now to strike Hawke where she stood. He made it a few treads above the animal, then gestured for Hawke to move a further distance away: "I've got it from here,  _wench_ , so now is the time to be scurrying off. Lest you want me to take your feet as well, you blighted shre-"

With that, a great and deep gash was carved into his chest by the silver-plated Hawke's mammoth of a blade. The _swipe_  sounded as though it had split the winds in two; certainly, it had at least separated the mouth of the brute from his words. He fell directly backwards, eyes wide with revelation.

"Merrill - prepare your staff,  _now_! There are more of them," Hawke hissed, just quickly enough; soon, arrows were flying forth towards the thin woman from the shadows, only to be repelled by the barrier she bestowed. Hawke went rushing forth, keen on routing the bandits from their winding alleyways - another wave of bolts rained, but Merrill was able to shield both Hawke and herself from them. 

It wasn't long before Hawke found her foes; foul, she was, in the ways she eliminated them from the battle. However, her preoccupation with the main horde allowed Merrill to become ambushed from behind by a lone assailant, who attempted to ruin her with the dagger in her hand. The struggle was a fierce one; Merrill wasn't brimming with fortitude, and so it took all of her might just to keep the Softrunner from killing her. Their tousle eventually launched Merrill into the earth; the attacker attempted to end her there, but Merrill was able to guard against it, inadvertently, with her own arm.

There, the tide of battle changed. The bandit's hand was turned upon herself and her blade cut her own throat. 

This was witnessed by another of the Softrunners, and with a pained wail of " _Blood magic_!" the rest of the thugs fled. Merrill stood lone, gasping, until Hawke reunited with her.

Between gasps, she joked: "You know... I think they were really trying to kill us!"

"Are you alright?" Hawke asked - though the woman was covered in blood, she wore few scars.

"Yes, I'm fine... did you notice, Hawke?" Merrill went, recapturing her breath.

"Notice?" Hawke asked, startled.

"Yes, that chant: 'With the foot of the hair round the neck for flair, live a life clear and without any fear!'" Merrill resounded.

"Ah. You remembered that?"

"Yes - it's very cultish for a band of robbers, isn't it?" Merril inquired, thoughtfully. "Also kind of haphazard. Like they took two different chants and stuck them together."

"Where are you going with this?" Hawke asked, feeling addled.

"They must know a secret. Have some lore. Some of them were elves. Perhaps they could help me with the Eluvian," Merrill said.

"You would petition these crazed bunny _bandits_ for aid?" Hawke asked.

"Why, yes, I would," Merrill said, with a giggle.

"Maker's breath. What about our tour, then?" Hawke despaired, brow knitting itself together.

"Oh dear goodness, Hawke, of course, let us continue our tour! This has all been so exciting already!" Merrill exclaimed, grasping at Hawke's forearm in order to console her.

"Really? Well... alright, then. Let us march further into excitement!" Hawke declared, prompting a very pleased squeal from Merrill as a response.

"I'm sure, in fact, that if we continue we'll encounter those Softrunners once again." Hawke said.

"Indeed. Perhaps especially if we run around. Softly." Merrill said, chuckling.

"Oh, Merrill," Hawke said, feigning pain from hearing her cruddy joke, before continuing forth.

"Am I not funny? I'm so sorry," Merrill apologized, sullen.

"You're funny, Merrill. I'm just thinking..." Hawke droned, as her elven companion gazed on intently. "I told you I'd show you the house, but... perhaps we'll make that the last stop? It's on the way back, after all."

"Certainly, Hawke," Merrill said, easily.

"Wonderful! Well, from here let us continue to the marketplace!" Hawke cheered.

And happily, they were off, leaving a pool of blood and bruises and hurt in their wake.

"... _Oh, Hawke,_ wait _! What about the rabbit?!_ "


	3. Bunny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is more like a chapter 2.5 because there's very little said, but i was feeling inspired! next week there will be another full chapter c:

"Poor little thing," Merrill said, as she held both of her hands over the saved rabbit, a glowing green emitting from them and knitting together the hare's foot. 

"What are we to do with it, Merrill?" Hawke asked, sounding uneasy.

"What do you mean? Of course, we have to keep it safe!" Merrill declared.

"You're going to adopt this bunny?" Hawke asked.

"You would tell me to leave it here? Really?" Merrill prodded, annoyed.

"Well, no, but..."

"Hawke... in this world, every gift can be abused. Every stone can be made a weapon, every tree can be cut down. All bodies can be paraded, but they can also be admired. Love can be twisted. When we face situations such as these, we don't abandon the gift - we condemn those who would use it for selfishness." Merrill said.

"I... I'm sorry, Merrill," Hawke frowned.

"It's okay, you don't need to apologize. Well, not to  _me_ , anyway." Merrill said, offering up the rather complacent bunny to the warrior instead.

"I'm sorry, rabbit," Hawke said.

"I'm sure you are forgiven. In times like these, we have to remember... evil cannot create, but it can distort. Never alienate an idea, a way of life, or a being who has life... But, anyway, I'm sorry, I know I must be rambling too much," Merrill said.

"No, Merrill... thanks for that," Hawke said.

"You're welcome. I think I needed to say it for me as well." Merrill said, smiling.

 


	4. Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **merrill wants to keep the rabbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the next chapter! sorry it's so late and short. thank you guys so much for reading. hopefully it's coming across more simple/sweet and not all that angsty... and i hope you enjoy it! <3

 The Lowtown market brought with it a veritable shift; what once was an unsettling, deadening silence had transitioned into a spirited uproar of merchants motivated primarily by hunger. This appeared evidently the primetime of the day for these folks who, though the wares they offered often varied greatly between one another, still beckoned for or called rather harshly towards potential customers. Here, under the wide-reaching light of day, tact was lost in favor of passion and aggression. None were shy, all were eager. It was simply how one made a living in this place.

 "Mayhaps we should find a place or a someone willing to adopt this rabbit, no?" Hawke asked, as she and her elven companion trotted forward at their leisure.

"No! Why would we do that, Hawke? The rabbit can stay with me," Merrill said.

"Is that right? How do you plan to care for it?" Hawke asked, eyeing the hare's newly closed wound: "Cuts and bruises are one thing, but being a caretaker for a wild animal like this? That's a big responsibility."

"I... I know that..." Merrill said.

"You have to put more thought into this," Hawke said. "Not to come across harshly, but you can barely take care of yourself. Let alone something like this... pets are like babies."

"I don't think it would like to be called that. It's been living alone this long, hasn't it?" Merrill said.

"Called what? A baby?" Hawke asked.

"Or a pet. Prefer instead to think of this bunny as a friend. Like you or I," Merrill said.

"Well... I suppose that would bring new meaning to the phrase 'hare-brained scheme' in our group." Hawke said, chuckling.

 "What?" Merrill asked, out of complete confusion.

"It was a joke," Hawke blurted, solemnly, shoulders sagging with embarrassment.

"Oh. I'm so sorry," Merrill said.

"Thanks," Hawke sighed, with a wrinkled brow.

"My jokes are worse, I promise," Merrill said, frantically.

 "You don't need to make me feel better about my lame joke - but... I know you don't want to give the rabbit away to just anybody. But what about Anders? He's got that cat already." Hawke said, as the duo stepped rather aimlessly about the marketplace.

"Don't cats eat hares?" Merrill asked, terrified.

"Not that one. It's certainly sweeter than Anders, at least." Hawke said, shaking her head 'no' at this.

"You think they would get along? This is a very timid bunny. For good reason," Merrill said.

 "Well, I don't know. But Anders is a healer. Sure, it's Darktown... but he seems to be paid well for it. He could afford another... friend... but I don't believe you can." Hawke said.

"But you could pay me, Hawke! You always have work - why don't you take me with you?" Merrill exclaimed, unconsciously pulling the bunny closer to her chest.

"But that... you'd be putting yourself in danger," Hawke frowned.

"I am no stranger to danger, Hawke," Merrill said, sounding insulted.

"There's no guarantee you would make enough for the both of you," Hawke continued, feeling very conflicted.

"Then I'll talk to Isabela. And Varric. They'll help me. Both of them stay at that pub, don't they?" Merrill fumed, starting off in the direction of the Hanged Man, ready to pave her own path if she could find no help from the friend nearest to her.

"Hey, Merrill, wait!" Hawke exclaimed, charging off after the petite woman.

"I'm going to take care of this rabbit, Hawke. You can't stop me!" Merrill declared, and then she was bounding off to the bar.


End file.
